Poetry from The Well

Résumé

Opotoki 003

 

I wait in the flesh around the skeleton.

I tread between sturdy strings of islands.

I dance beneath beads that glitter

turning muscles that turn shadows

beneath the sun.

 

You’ve seen me in wrinkles,

or ink that seeps into your

sweaty palm.

 

A new résumé soon slips

away and crinkles,

translucent and pliant

as snakeskin,

perfect for a pair of

sturdy boots.

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